


Horcruxes and Other Lovely Objects

by Fangirlofmassdestruction (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Dumb Wizards, F/M, M/M, Magic, voldemort - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8349778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Fangirlofmassdestruction
Summary: “Hermione,” The redhead leaned over to whisper to the only girl of the group , “This seems a bit sketchy. Are you sure we should trust him? I know he’s good, but is he good enough? We’re breaking enough laws as it is.” John’s eyebrows raised a bit at that part. What could they be doing? Drugs, probably, if their appearance was anything to go by. John sighed to himself. 	“Of course we should Ronald,” She whispered back in a sure tone, “This is Sherlock Holmes we’re talking about! He’s absolutely brilliant.”Hermione, Ron, and Harry need help to find horcruxes. Who better to ask than Sherlock Holmes?





	1. Chapter 1

The three teenagers squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa in the flat. John watched them with some form of curiosity. They were very strange, looking around the flat with poorly disguised awe, especially the redhead. He was particularly entranced when Sherlock’s phone started to ring.

‘Probably slow,’ John mused. He wondered what case these three would bring. Hopefully something good, Sherlock had been shooting the walls all day, much to distress of Mrs. Hudson.

“Hermione,” The redhead leaned over to whisper to the only girl of the group , “This seems a bit sketchy. Are you sure we should trust him? I know he’s good, but is he good enough? We’re breaking enough laws as it is.” John’s eyebrows raised a bit at that part. What could they be doing? Drugs, probably, if their appearance was anything to go by. John sighed to himself. 

“Of course we should Ronald,” She whispered back in a sure tone, “This is Sherlock Holmes we’re talking about! He’s absolutely brilliant.” 

“But Mione’! He’s a muggle!” Ronald had protested. It took a sharp glare to silence him. 

Sherlock swept into the room before John could wonder what on Earth a muggle was. “Sorry about the wait.” He said coolly, “The idiots over at Scotland Yard wanted advice on how to actually see. It was quite obviously the butler who stole the painting.”

“Sherlock?” John coughed and turned his head at the threesome. “We have guests!”

“Right, right, the client's.” Sherlock waved his hand in boredom. He turned to the trio, who all sat a little straighter in his gaze. “Now, wizards, interesting. Not everyday that you stoop down to a muggle’s level. Oh aren’t you all interesting.” He gazed at them intently. 

“Sherlock, what? Wizards?” John gave a small chuckle. “They seem more likely to be drug addicts than wizards.” All three of them bristled at the suggestion. John took no notice. 

“Oh honestly John, it’s obvious. Even you can see it.” Sherlock replied in his typical offhand manner and aloof manner, too busy staring at the man with a strange scar on his forehead.

John decided to ignore the probably unintentional barb by turning his attention to the three clients. The first was sitting on the far left of the couch and had a thin, gangly frame, and innumerable amount of freckles, and the brightest red hair John had ever seen. The second was a woman who sat primly on the couch, despite her hair being extremely bushy and burned in some areas and the rather large spot of dirt on her nose. The last was a thin scrawny man with extremely messy hair, an odd lightning bolt scar on his forehead, and brilliantly green eyes covered by slightly cracked circle spectacles. They were an odd threesome, to be sure. They all were in tattered and dirty clothing, smelled like they all hadn’t had a good shower in a good while, and were clutching sticks of varying color and length like their lives depended on it. That was probably where Sherlock got the wizard idea from. John mentally noted everything just in case this turned out to be good enough for Sherlock and thus John’s blog. All of this observation took a little less than a second. Sherlock had been rubbing off on John, it seemed.

The green-eyed man stood up in panic. “How do you know wizards? Who told you?” 

“Oh please, Anderson has more brains than the entire wizarding world combined.” The redhead flushed with anger from the correctly perceived insult.

Before the redhead could form a coherent retort, John stood up. He could let Sherlock get away with lots of things, but believing in hogwash ‘magic’ wasn’t one of them, “Sherlock, I know there are a lot of things I don’t know, but one thing I do know that magic isn’t real. Is this some sort of subculture, maybe? 

“No, it’s true sir! Here, let me demonstrate.” The girl with bushy hair stood up and pulled out what could be assumed her wand. Before John could protest, she waved her wand in a series of motions around a teacup full of old tea and turned it into a small tortoise. John made a strangled sound that didn’t sound quite human. Ignoring John’s sound, the girl plowed into an explanation. 

“You see? Magic is real! We really shouldn’t be telling you this, under normal circumstances we’d be thrown in jail and your memories wiped, but these aren’t normal circumstances. You see, there’s this man named Voldemort-” The redhead let out a squawk of anger, 

“Don’t say his name!” 

“-who’s trying to take over the wizarding world, he’s almost succeeded too. He’s trapped pieced of his soul into objects by killing people so he could remain immortal and we’re looking for them. They’re called horcruxes, we’ve only found one and we need your help so we can figure out where the rest are. Ron’s wearing Salazar Slytherin’s locket right now, that's the only horcrux we’ve found so far, and it’s been having noticeable effects on our mental health. Voldemort wants to kill all muggles -sorry, those are what wizards call non-magical people- and muggle-borns, magical people born to non magical people like myself. Oh! I’m terribly sorry, I’ve just realized that we haven’t introduced ourselves. My name’s Hermione granger,” She pointed at the redhead, “He’s Ron Weasley,” She pointed at the boy with green eyes, “And he’s Harry-”

“Potter,” Sherlock responded, somehow still managing to sound cool and bored. “Of course I know who you are. I’m not an idiot you know. Turning my tea cup back into a tea cup would be appreciated by the way.” Hermione gave a small jump and quickly tapped the toriouse with her wand to turn it back to it’s original form. 

“I’m sorry, what?” John blinked and rubbed his eyes a little, just to try to make sure that they were real and not part of his imagination.

“They need our help to find horcruxes. Honestly John, keep up.” Sherlock said impatiently. “Now, where would Voldemort hide his horcruxes. You’ve already found two, so there are five more to go. Now, since Voldemort is obviously a half-blood who gave up his muggle roots. The only way he’d give up his muggle roots is if he had a bad childhood and wanted to cut himself off from it forever. He also has classic signs of psychopathy.” Sherlock began to pace. “ I’d know. Now, this means that important places to him are all that more important to him. Hogwarts is a definite place, probably in a hidden room that most people don’t know about, already magically concealed, probably magical qualities in the room itself as well. It’d probably be hidden in plain sight, among lots of clutter I’d believe. I’m going to need more time on this, and I can’t guarantee that I’m going to find all of them but-”

Ron suddenly stood up, his face bright red with anger and his fists clenched. “Why the bloody hell are you ready my best friends thoughts?” He yelled. “I’ve got enough on my plate as it is already and I don’t need a bloody wizard pretending to be smart by using legilimency on defenseless muggles! In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you were a slimy Death Eater working with You-Know-Who himself!” 

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione exclaimed at the same time John yelled “Watch yourself, he’s the one helping you!” 

Sherlock let out an agonizingly long sigh as if even being the room with those sorts of people was painful. “Really Mr. Weasley, you are being stressfully dull.” Ron tensed, the tone reminding him of somebody painfully familiar, “Legilimency requires eye contact at all times, I don’t suppose you didn’t see me just pacing around the floor and thus not being able to look at Potter’s eyes?” 

“W-well you still could’ve done it earlier!” Ron spluttered. “You’re obviously a wizard! No muggle can do that!” 

“Ron!” Hermione scolded. Sherlock looked mildly amused. Ron at least had the decency to look slightly sheepish. 

“Mate, nobody entered my mind. Even I can tell when someone’s doing that.” Harry said in what he obviously was hoping to be a soothing voice. 

“Yes, yes. What was this about… magic being real? And a magical Moriarty?” John glared at the three strangers. “I don’t know who the bloody hell you are what you want but let me tell you you won’t be getting it easil-”

“John! These are clients and they have a case for me! As stupid as they are, they managed to come up with a decent case!” Sherlock stomped. Turning to the trio he added, “Though it wouldn’t hurt to have a murder in it as well, but it’ll work.” 

Ronald turned a tad green and angrily hissed something into Hermione’s ear. Hermione huffed and smacked him. 

John sank onto his chair in a huff and closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He groaned when he saw the ragtag group still sitting in his couch. He sighed again, stood up, and said in a defeated tone, “How can we help?”


	2. Chapter 2

It was a dreary Sunday morning when Sherlock walked into the Leaky Cauldron for the first time. Sherlock swept past the dingy tables and walked towards the bar ender. He already knew this wasn’t a typical bar. How it was different, Sherlock wasn't sure, but he intended to find out. 

 

It took a minute or two for the bartender to notice him. He shuffled over to Sherlock slowly and asked in a rough voice, “Need help finding the alley, eh?” 

 

Sherlock nodded mutely, vaguely noting how the man was having an affair and followed the bartender to the back of the shop. 

 

The bartender tapped a brick wall with a long, pointed stick. The bricks pulled themselves apart to reveal a bustling alley full of impossible phenomenons and strangely dressed people.

 

Sherlock’s jaw dropped in shock. The bartender turned to Sherlock with a knowing grin. “First time in the alley? Foreigner I bet, heard the American alley isn't nearly as good as ours. My name’s Tom, by the way.”

 

Sherlock still hadn't torn his gaze away from the alley. His brain was whirling a thousand miles a minute at how impossible it all was. “Sherlock Holmes.” He responded feebly. How could any of this be possible. His mind was whirling with possibilities. 

Tom gave Sherlock a strange look and began hero shuffle away. “Stay safe, You-Know-Who's might be back, if the Boy Who Lived is telling the truth. Can't trust anyone these days.” Tom began to shuffle back to the bar, leaving Sherlock to his own devices.

 

Sherlock straightened up and without trepidation, he stepped into the alley.   
\------------ 

 

Hours later, Sherlock stepped out of Diagon Alley with four large shopping bags and a wallet weighed down with thick round golden coins. It was a shock to find that of all things, magic was real. What's more, magical people were absolute idiots! They could duplicate anything they wanted and make anything they wanted, and none of them seemed to realize it! Not to mention the absolutely stupid terrorist head that everyone was afraid of. Well, the Voldemort fellow was actually smart in wizard terms, but that wasn't saying much. 

 

Sherlock didn't look at or touch food for three days after that trip to Diagon Alley, he was far too busy analyzing magic to be bothered with such mundane tasks as eating. On the fourth day, Mycroft paid a visit his brother.

 

“So I see you've discovered magic. I have to say, it took you longer than I thought you would.” Mycroft said from the doorway.

 

“Shut up Mycroft,” Sherlock muttered.

 

“Now, the standard protocol is to have your memory wiped, but I think we both know that won’t work well on you.” 

 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “Well, considering how stupid wizards are it’s surprising you aren’t one.” He responded snidely.

 

“No need to be rude, brother dear.” Mycroft responded tartly. “I see you’ve been busy.” Mycroft gestured towards the various magical items scattered across the kitchen table. 

 

“I have and since you’ve so graciously pointed that out I hope you realize that I don’t have time for you.” Sherlock remarked coolly. “It’s amazing that you’ve managed to keep your job intact with your declining intellect.” 

 

“Oh honestly Sherlock, I didn’t come here to exchange barbs with you.” Mycroft leaned on his umbrella, “I’ve come here to make sure you don’t die while you’re caught up with the new world you’ve discovered. What would Mummy say if I had to tell her that you died of hunger in your own kitchen?” 

 

“She’d probably laugh thinking it was a joke and then faint when she figured out you weren’t.” Sherlock replied disinterestedly. He’d gone back to peering through his microscope. 

 

“Mycroft held out a bag of Chinese takeout. “Just eat already.”

 

Sherlock glared at him. “Fine.”  
\--------------

 

Sherlock was broken out of his reverie (A reverie? He must be getting sentimental. Oddly enough, this didn’t bother Sherlock nearly as much as he expected it to.) by John. “Tea, Sherlock?” John asked as he poured a cuppa for the three highly unusual guests. Harry and Ron both slurped and gulped their tea full of sugar, milk, and honey. Hermione tried to to be more polite and sipped her tea quickly. Sherlock eyed them with disdain. 

 

“No.” Sherlock paused for just a fraction of a second.“Thank you.” 

 

John looked at Sherlock for just a second longer than necessary. “Alright then.” John poured himself a cup of tea. “More for me then.”

 

“I need to experiment.” Sherlock said imperiously and walked swiftly away from the kitchen and into the stairway. 

 

John stared after him, “Whatever makes you happy mate.” John sipped his tea. 

 

Hello again! I’m so happy people left reviews for me (a whole whopping ten! I know, it’s so cool) And it just made me insanely happy. Sorry for such a short chapter after not updating for around two months :/. I’ve had a bit of an inspiration block. But hey, it works kind of! Don’t forget to like and leave a review and stay awesomee!

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fic (yay)! Any ideas for this fic would be appreciated, and if you want to see it on my fanfiction account, look up the same title. I might update there first. Thanks for reading!


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